


Forty-Seven Floors Down

by FloatingCow



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Blood and Gore, Body Horror, Gen, Gross Imagery, Halloween, Hallucinations, Horror, Hurt No Comfort, Hurt!Noct, Hurt!everyone, Insanity, No Beta, Parasites, Psychological Horror, Self-Mutilation, Spiders, Trauma
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-31
Updated: 2019-10-31
Packaged: 2021-01-15 09:01:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21250829
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FloatingCow/pseuds/FloatingCow
Summary: After the ten years in the Crystal, but before fighting Ardyn, Noctis decides to take care of another pressing matter: the vaults beneath Lucis.Steyliff's vault proves to be an ordeal on its own.~Halloween 2019~





	Forty-Seven Floors Down

The vault door yawned before Noctis - dread from the idea of what was kept in the deepest parts of Steyliff turned his stomach.

"Second to last one guys," Prompto says, moving forward to touch a glowing sigil upon the door, "You guys ready?"

Only this and Costlemark left. In the ten years he had been spirited away into the Crystal, he had never imagined he would be returning to either of these daemon-infested dungeons.

From either side of him, Gladio and Ignis nod in agreement.

"Right," Noct says, studying the key clutched in his grip, "Let's get this over quickly then."

He pauses only briefly. The sooner they did this, the sooner they could fight Ardyn. The sooner they could bring back the dawn.

Noctis grips the key tighter, and takes a deep breath. The vault unlocks with an anticlimactic _click_.

...

"Deja-vu is the word I think you're looking for." Ignis drawls from where he sets up breakfast.

Prompto turns around in his seat, fixing Ignis with a glare the other couldn't possibly see. "Not you too, Ignis." He sighs deeply, "_Premonition_ is the right word here. I _knew_ asking Cindy out wouldn't work that time because of the difficulty of the engine she was repairing."

Noctis rubs his eyes but remains quiet otherwise. It certainly wasn't just him feeling the gradual exhaustion that traversing these floors proved to be. With each descent into a new room, they had been faced with either powerful daemons or monsters. This was maybe the third or fourth floor that had been empty of enemies where they could rest for the night.

How deep could this vault be? He was surprised they couldn't feel the heat of Eos's mantle around them. Maybe they were descending into another dimension entirely.

"Deja-vu," Gladio calls from where he does his morning business in the corner of the dark room, "Is exactly the right word because Cindy never says yes no matter how many times you ask."

He rejoins them around the dying embers of their campfire just as Ignis hands out their oatmeal. Prompto bites back any retaliatory remarks as he is handed his own bowl.

Ignis sits quietly next to Noctis as Prompto and Gladio find a new topic to discuss.

"Noctis, a word?"

He pauses his next bite of breakfast and sets his bowl to the side. Noctis raises his eyebrows before verbally responding, "Yes, Specs?"

Ignis smiles briefly at the old nickname before his expression turns serious once again. He turns fully to Noctis, "Our food supplies are running low. If we don't reach the bottom floor by tomorrow, we will have to start rationing."

Noctis swallows and picks his breakfast back up to cradle it closer. Ignis, ever patient, waits for him to gather his thoughts.

"How many more floors do you think there are?" He addresses instead.

Ignis crosses his legs and dips his spoon into his oatmeal. "I would have thought that we would have reached the bottom by now. It is unfeasible that we are this deep."

Humming, Noctis turns his gaze to the entrance to the room. Barred.

Each floor locked behind them, not including the floors with multiple pathways leading to dead ends. There was no going back.

During his silence, Prompto and Gladio had quieted and turned to listen.

"Guess we'll just have to start eating light."

...

Noctis hears the last tonberry die to a crackshot from Prompto's gun. Sweat beads at his forehead, and he hunches over to catch his breath. The very air is bitter and stale with the taste and smell of mold.

"Gods," Prompto pauses, out of breath himself, "Anymore of this and I'll seriously die."

Gladio says something in response, but an unwelcome lightheadedness forces Noct to clench his eyes shut and tune them out. Strange - even though he'd only had an energy bar since Ignis had warned him of the supply, he shouldn't have already been feeling effects like this. Blinking it away, Noctis straightens himself up and turns to Ignis as he makes an announcement.

"Currently, we are forty-seven floors down. There's been a campsite every ten floors, let us hope this trend continues." Ignis pauses to rub at his eye, "If it's not a place to spend the night safely, then let us hope it is the final floor."

Gladio grumbles and starts moving towards the only open exit, "Fifty sounds like a good number for a boss fight. We can finally finish this and move onto Costle-"

The ringing of a phone interrupts him.

All four freeze in their tracks. Gladio touches a hand to his pocket, gently resting over the impossibly loud device. Noctis and Prompto move in closer around Gladio as he pulls the phone out and checks the caller ID.

The buzzing of the phone, and the innocent, three-letter word that greets them nearly has Gladio dropping it.

'Dad'

The ringing continues, and when no one makes any move to acknowledge it, Ignis speaks up with barely restrained urgency.

"What is it?"

Noctis flinches at his voice, and watches with baited breath as Gladio slides a thumb over to 'Speaker'.

The sounds of battle are quick to reach their ears, but even more so than that, is that of a long dead voice.

"_-esides, magic is bound to you._"

Their blood freezes.

Clarus.

"_If you fall, Lucis falls._"

"No-" Gladio stutters, pulling back as if it were a bomb cradled in his hand, "No way."

The clatter of swords and crackle of lightning seep from the phone as Clarus engages with an unseen enemy. As quick as it started, the battle ends as they hear Gladio's father's death cry.

The phone cuts with a staticy _crackle_, but the four remain frozen with their feet planted firmly in place.

"Thats..." Prompto trails off uncertainly.

"That's fucked up." From the set of Gladio's chin and tension of his muscles, he was beyond disturbed. The phone, no longer a simple innocent device, falls victim to Gladio's anger as he nearly crushes it in his grip.

Reigning in his temper at the last minute, he stores it in their shared armiger - where it wouldn't be heard again.

All four are content to imagine it never happened.

...

It's just as they reach a lower floor that their normal conversation turns worrisome.

"I'm beat. Noct, mind if I stay at your place tonight?" Prompto's strange request has Noctis pausing before the entrance to the next room. The daemons inside, as if sensing the groups presence, grew agitated.

Tonberries. _Again._

"My place?" He questions, the daemons becoming less of a priority as he turned around to face Prompto.

"Not the Citadel obviously!" Prompto throws his hands up as if that clarification was enough to fill the quickly forming pit in Noct's stomach, "Just your normal apartment... but I understand if not."

"Wha-"

"Prompto," Ignis interrupts, "are you quite alright?"

Noct starts as Prompto's expression suddenly glazes over. Before he can make any moves, his friend seemingly rejoins them with barely hid anxiety.

"Hey." He wets his lips and fixes Ignis with an unreadable stare, "This isn't Insomnia. It's the year 766."

The way Prompto says it like he's guessing has Noctis and Gladio exchanging glances. Ignis steps closer to him, running his hand over Prompto's head in a gentle gesture and to check for injuries.

"The time it takes us to reach each camp is between one and a half days to two. I'm starting to think we may not be getting enough rest." Ignis projects his voice enough for the three of them to hear. Noctis cringes as echoes of it bounce off behind him.

With that concern weighing them down, Noctis led them to the next room. The kingatrices crow and fight viciously, and at the back of his mind Noctis wonders what happened to the tonberries.

His vision sways slightly during the fight - and he can't help but notice all the cobwebs clinging to the corners of the room. Strange thought - Noctis shakes his head to free himself from it and returns to battle.

The stench of mold grows increasingly distracting throughout the battle, and even over an hour later, when the next floor brings them to a pack of wyverns, it remains.

Not enough food. Not enough rest.

They reach floor 60, and as much as any of them want to leave Steyliff as quick as possible, they stay and try to sleep an extra few hours.

Noctis finds himself staring at the dark ceiling of the tent, shadows and figures dancing before his eyes, and the toxic scent of mold burns his eyes. From deeper within, the sounds of daemons chittering and bellowing occasionally reach his ears. For him, at least, those few extra hours only torment him more.

...

The next morning does no wonder for Noct's mood, as he steps out of the tent and immediately into a spiderweb.

Quickly scrubbing his face and checking himself over for anything that may be crawling over him, Noctis takes no time to wonder why it hadn't been disturbed by Ignis first.

With a last instinctual shiver, Noctis digs into his breakfast of half an energy bar.

They reach the 62nd floor in little under an hour, the four of their group coming face to face with the four-hundred skulls claimed by the psychomancers residing there.

This floor itself takes over an hour, the cloaked daemons keeping them at bay and on their toes. Once the last one falls, Noctis walks to Prompto and pulls the collapsed gunner to his feet.

The sound of a gate closing draws their attention quick.

Gladio and Ignis look at them in shock from the other side of the impassable iron bars.

...

"I am Prompto. It is 766." Prompto grounds himself - and Noctis doesn't dare interrupt. "I am with Noctis. Ignis and Gladio are separated from us."

Noctis frowns and swipes away the spiderwebs blurring his vision. Carefully placing each step, he narrows his eyes, "We'll catch up with them soon."

Prompto carries on as if he hadn't heard.

"I am Prompto - I am the _real_ me, and I am in the vault under Steyliff. It is the year 766."

He sighs at last and falls quiet, murmuring out a quick 'sorry' to Noct. He doesn't say anything in return - knowing full well that he had had to find something to bring himself back to reality on more than one occasion.

Daemons danced at the corners of his vision - daemons he knew didn't exist.

"It can't just be sleep deprivation and hunger causing this." Prompto runs a hand through his hair in frustration, "This place is _wrong_ \- darker and more ancient than anywhere but Costlemark."

"Think about it, how many daemons and monsters have died down here over the eons." Noctis adds, turning his gaze from the steps downwards to the stone ceiling above. It was just idle chatter - no real conviction for either of them. Just something to keep their minds busy and entertained.

"This is just the haunting ground for all of them." Prompto nods, his voice falling quiet.

Noct purses his lips, not willing to let Prompto spiral into the depths of his own mind. "Don't dwell on ghosts or no ghosts. We have real, living daemons to worry about."

Six hours alone and only two fights down, both know that their power has been crippled from the separation of Ignis and Gladio. Despite knowing this, they move down to the next floor.

Arachne fill the room - Noctis only finding himself briefly confused at this first appearance from them on any of the floors.

He forces himself past the thick webbing blocking the entrance and is quick to warp into the closest daemon he sees. When it falls, it falls laughing at him.

Eyebrow twitching at the obvious mocking, Noctis snarls and twists his blade deeper. From above and the sides, arachne spill into the room from tunnels they carved themselves.

They swarm him, but his ten years in the Crystal hadn't been for nothing. Hacking and slashing them back, Noctis loses sight of Prompto but is quick to cull their numbers.

The occasional, thunderous crackle of a gun tells him Prompto is putting up his own fight. With that in mind, he dwindles down their numbers until only one lay before him.

The wounded arachne drags its body away, legs crippled from Noct's onslaught. Rubbing spider's thread from his face and shoulders, Noctis moves to step over her.

She shrieks, she laughs, and the noise nearly drives him insane. Water trickles throughout the cave, they would have to make sure they didn't track mud into the Regalia.

Noctis raises his blade to strike the arachne down.

The ear-piercing shriek of a distraught baby catches Noctis off-guard. He stops short and pulls his blade away from the daemon.

A human infant lies affixed to the daemon - his skin fused to it in some places and wires and tubes connecting them in others. The baby looks at him as it wails, tears of ichor staining his face and Noctis no longer feels like he is getting enough air.

Light-headed and hyperventilating, Noctis reaches for the baby to try and free it. A hand grabs his shoulder.

Noctis whirls his blade on the owner.

...

When his senses next return, he is standing over a headless body in an unknown room. Vision fuzzy and head feeling as if it were stuffed with cotton, Noctis looks down at the only other occupant in the room.

It looks like Prompto's body.

It looks like Prompto's body, but it has no head, so therefore, it _couldn't_ be Prompto.

Noctis runs a hand over his face and tugs harshly at his hair. He turns to look at the hallway behind him, then back to the body at his feet.

Prompto's body was still there. But where was Prompto?

"Prompto." Noctis calls out hoarsely. Cobwebs have begun to cling to the walls and body, stretching out and suffocating all available space. Noctis sways on his feet - this room was too claustrophobic for either him or Prompto.

He needed to find Prompto quick. Ignis and Gladio were waiting. Noctis pulls himself away from the body and makes his way through the dark hall.

Stumbling, he leans against the wall as he walks. Vision dancing and spindly limbs reaching out from behind him, Noctis haunches over himself, "I am Noctis."

He walks down the long hall, no light in sight.

"It is 766."

He walks down the long hall, no _end_ in sight.

Prompto was probably just with the other two. They would be waiting for him.

"I am Noctis."

"Noct!"

Whipping his head up, Noctis bolts into the room before him, straight towards Ignis. Gladio stands, clutching a wounded arm close to his chest.

"Are you hurt? Where's Prompto?" Ignis checks him over.

Looking back down the dark hall - which now seems much less endless than it had just before - he responds, "We were separated. I was hoping to find him with you."

The ground swirls slightly beneath him, and Noct coughs out moldy air. He rubs his head, trying to bring his awareness back. Pulling a water bottle from the armiger, he realizes with dread that they were now running dangerously low on that supply too.

"Let's wait here for him to catch up." Noct suggests.

...

Prompto doesn't catch up.

Instead, the three move on, sensing the return of danger should they idle any longer. It's maybe five or six or ten more floors and a camp one person short of four before Gladio calls out to them.

"Noct. I need you for a moment."

Sensing his unease, Noct is quick to move to him. Gladio pulls up his arm, exposing it for Noctis to see. Fresh but faint scars mar his skin - the only remainder of the wound after applying a potion later in battle.

Noctis squints his eyes, wondering what exactly Gladio wanted him to look at.

Exhaling slowly through his nose, Gladio asks, "Well? Think it's infected?"

The presence of scars meant no infection, and the lack of discoloration meant no Scourge.

Noctis pulls back from the arm and responds slowly, "No, it looks fine to me."

The way that Gladio's lips pull tell Noct that his Shield doubted his answer, but he heads in the direction of the next floor before Noctis can convince him otherwise.

Noctis cradles his half-empty water bottle close - the news that Ignis had broken to them just last night that they had less than ten left sitting uneasily upon him. As if they needed one more thing to worry about.

He sends the plastic bottle back to the armiger without drinking any.

They descend the floors in silence for hours, too tired, too thirsty to make small-talk. Noctis nearly startles when Ignis speaks out.

"I suppose you're right."

Noctis pulls his attention away from the shadows dancing in his peripherals and tilts his head at the odd choice of words. Gladio looks over his shoulder and murmurs, "Right about what?"

As if he hadn't heard Gladio, Ignis carries on, "Either there is something protecting us from the heat - for we are surely deep enough for the temperatures to be lethal- or, the vault takes us to another plane entirely."

"Trippy." Prompto replies.

Noctis huffs tiredly, "Reality is bending and all you can say is _'trippy'_?"

Mold spores tickle his nose and irritate his throat. It almost distracts him from the conversation. He hears Prompto suck in a breath to retort, when Gladio suddenly talks over him.

"What are you two talking about?" There's a tension in his voice, enough so that it clears some of the fog from Noct's brain.

Confusion has him looking around - Prompto had just been there (intrusive thoughts tell Noctis otherwise). Where had he gone off to now? He had just been with them - frustration at being separated again has Noctis pinching his brow. His heart speeds up.

As if knowing who they were talking to, Gladio wets his lips, his voice measured carefully, "Prompto isn't here with us."

Heart pounding, Noctis focuses his wide eyes on the ground.

"I am Noctis. It is the year-"

...

Much to Noct's surprise, Gladio takes up the same grounding method. Albeit, only when he thinks the other two aren't watching.

The way he digs into his arm, as if those scars really _were_ infected, has both Noctis and Ignis more than a little concerned.

Ignis himself barely concerns Noct - despite the fact he can tell that Ignis listens to voices the other two cannot hear. No, the one Noctis is most concerned for is himself.

He is rational enough to tell that he is submerging into insanity. He blinks to clear the spiderwebs from his eyes, knowing they were not there to begin with. He acknowledges the daemons at the back of his heels, knowing that they are only tricks of his eyes.

Ignis splits a catfish into three portions and feeds them - it's the most full Noct has felt in days, especially as the time between camps grows larger.

Prompto's absence is sorely missed. Noctis should have never agreed to clearing enemies behind a sealed vault.

...

There's someone outside the tent.

From either side of him, Ignis and Gladio sleep soundly. Noctis lifts his head to peer over his sleeping bag and focus on the tent's door.

Whoever it is, he can hear them lumbering aimlessly around the room they currently reside in. His heart _pounds_.

Unconsciously, he pulls the sleeping bag closer to his chin as he strains his neck. The thudding of boots gets louder as the owner slowly approaches the tent.

Fear freezes him completely, from his position he can see slightly through a gap in the tent flaps. Heavy boots pause outside the door, from what little he could see, he could identify as Kingsglaive boots.

_Prompto_ \- he tries to say. His clenched jaws only allow for a raspy wheeze.

Noct's eyes blow wide. There was no way that was Prompto. But those were his boots, so it must be him.

Indecision prevents him from acting. From opening the door and letting him in (it was Prompto, he should be in there with him). From staying quiet and hoping whatever it was that was outside their tent would go away (it wasn't Prompto, _it wasn't Prompto_).

Faking sleep crosses his mind - but his muscles, locked so tight, prevent him from even that.

"_Prom-_" He rasps out, eyes widening even further and mouth falling open into a silent scream. The boots don't move, only collecting blood as it drips from up above.

Noct clenches his eyes and his mouth shut.

It wasn't Prompto.

_It wasn't Prompto!_

"You- you're not - it's not Prompto, it's _not!_" He finally screams out. "It's not, it's _not!_"

Tears spill freely from his cheeks and he spins himself over, propping himself on his elbows. Gladio and Ignis are slow to awareness on either side of him.

"You're not! You're not!" He bashes is head into the ground beneath him on each emphasis, and then again and again as he finds it clears the fog from his brain and the stench of mold from his nose.

It's blood he smells instead now, and it spurts from his nose and spills from his head to mix with his tears. Ignis yanks him back and Gladio pins his arms to keep him from flailing.

Noctis _wails._

"I've damned us all!" He cries, and doesn't bother to look for the boots - they were never there. "Ten years, and now an _eternity_ because I brought us down here!"

He ignores his friends' frantic questions, and lets their embrace still his shuddering body. None of the three fall back asleep that night.

...

Baggy eyed, Noctis sits solemnly in his chair. It wasn't camp - but he and his friends couldn't continue at the pace they had set previously.

Noct sighs and rests his head on his clasped hands. Ignis hands him a bowl - uncooked rice with mild seasoning - when he suddenly freezes and tilts his head.

"Ignis?" Noct questions, grabbing Gladio's attention as well.

Ignis stays quiet, pursing his lips and looking down a hall Noct doesn't remember seeing before. He forces down his food and stands to get a better look at his adviser.

"Ignis," he calls again, "What's wrong?"

The trembling does not go unnoticed as Ignis turns from the hall to Noct, and then back to the hall again.

"I can hear you." His cryptic words do nothing to ease Noct, and he moves to grab one of Ignis's shoulders.

"Noct, what going on?" Gladio questions as Noct stands in front of Ignis as if to keep him from moving. Noctis clicks his tongue and sends a quick shrug before calling out to Ignis.

"Hey man, you need to speak to me. You can hear me? What are you talking about?"

Ignis swallows, finally acknowledging them fully.

"I can hear you," he shakily points down the hall, "from in there."

"Ignis, don't listen!" Noct shakes him one to get his point across, "Whatever it is, it isn't me! Don't listen to them."

Leaning into Noct, Ignis brings a hand to cover his face. Gladio steps closer, hovering his uninjured hand over Ignis.

"Listen to us Ignis." He says shakily. Concern flashes to venom as his gaze falls from Ignis to the hall, "We are real."

"Real-" Ignis starts, "We are real. It is the 75th floor in our descent of Steyliff." He pulls from Noct slightly, coming back to himself more, "The year is 766."

"That's right." Noct says with a smile, knowing Ignis would pick it up on his voice. Ignis squeezes Noct's shoulder in appreciation and tries to do the same with Gladio.

Gladio violently pulls away and hides his arm behind him.

"Gladio?" Noct questions. Gladio shifts, eyes focusing anywhere but Ignis and Noct.

"It's just," he pulls his arm out to show, "It's spreading."

The arm looks exactly the same as Noct had last seen. He reaches forward to inspect closer.

Gladio yanks his arm away with a snarl, "Are you insane?! It might infect you too!"

"How bad is it?" Ignis asks, unable to see for himself.

When Gladio makes no effort to respond, Noctis turns to Ignis, "I don't see any infection, Ignis. Just a few scars."

Ignis cocks a brow, lips turning downtrodden, "How certain are you? Are you absolutely _sure?_"

Noctis doesn't bother to be hurt by the question to his sanity - each of them were equally questioning their own - and confirms again.

"I see no infection - neither from an _infection_ infection, or a _Scourge_ infection."

Ignis bites his thumb, "Let's treat it as an infection regardless. While we are low on potions and elixirs, we have antidotes and other first aid. Even if there is no infection, it'll work soothe Gladio's unease."

...

A squelching sound rouses Noctis slowly, pained grunts from Gladio accompanying them softly.

Noctis sits, hand groping for a light as Ignis stirs awake too. He finds the cold metal of the lantern and turns it on with a murmured, "Gladio?"

Gladio writhes next to him, hand _clawing_ at his eye and turning it to a bloody mush. With a gasp, Noctis drops the lantern and tries to pry Gladio's hand away from his face.

Urgently, Gladio rips away and stumbles out of the tent. Ignis tugs on Noct's sleeve to ask what is happening, but Noct ignores him and chases after Gladio.

The dim embers of a dying campfire casts enough light to Noct's horror - Gladio is hunched over, hand holding the shredded fibers of his left eye. He cringes at the sight, it was mangled beyond repair. His scarred arm too bore signs of abuse, the skin itself had been clawed and frayed, with muscle exposed and torn.

It remained limp at his side.

"Gla-" He starts and chokes back, feeling ill at watching Gladio squirm as if there was something inside him. He reaches a tentative hand out, noticing belatedly how Gladio was crying.

The movement sends Gladio back into a frenzy. Noctis rushes up to him as he once again tries to pull out his own eye. Gore and blood coat his hands as he tries to restrain Gladio, and he tries to avoid touching his friend's self-inflicted wounds along his face, neck, and arms.

Gladio desperately throws him off once more, backpedaling as if he were going to explode.

"N-noct, please! Your Majesty, please kill me!" He cries, he _begs_, "Gods above - please don't let me be like Ravus!"

Noct flinches at every raw word Gladio shouts.

Ignis stumbles out of the tent a moment later, sightless eye looking up at his wounded friend.

"Gladio, tell us what's wrong!" A grimace stretches his mouth unpleasantly as he pleads.

"Kill me! Quickly - _please!_" Is Gladio's response, "I don't want to be damned - I don't want to be tormented for all eternity!"

He throws a hand up to his face and arches back, screaming in anguish as he does so, "I don't want to be a _daemon!_"

Noct can only stare as his Shield breaks down. His eyes cloud as tears spill freely down both their faces. Gladio _couldn't_ die here!

"Gladio - please, listen to me! There is _no infection!_"

"No, no, no, _no. No!_" Gladio steps back, putting too much distance between them. "Can't you _see?_"

He could see Gladio's arm, as mangled and disfigured as his eye. Both never to be used again.

"You _know_ what you have to do! Why won't you?" The distraught look Gladio fixes him with falls away slowly. Something dawns behind his expression, clearing his eyes, "Oh gods, it's because..."

He trails off, and the way he stands taller has Noctis backing up a step.

"It's because you're _Ardyn!_" Gladio snarls.

Noctis cries out as Gladio lunges for his throat. They collide painfully with the floor as Gladio screams at him, his bloody hand forcing his grip to consistently slip from around his neck.

"You _won't_ fool me! I've seen your sick tricks, seen you pose as my friends!"

Noctis struggles and kicks, sucking in air at every chance he gets. Gladio is unrelenting.

"I am Gladio." He snarls, "It is 766. And I'm going to kill you here and now you bastard!" He emphasizes each words with a tighter squeeze. Noctis claws at him, fighting as his eyes roll to the back of his head.

Ignis finally jumps onto Gladio from behind, working an arm around his neck and harshly pulling backwards to force Gladio off of Noct.

Noct flips over, choking as he sucks in breath. Gladio spins, backhanding Ignis.

Before either can regain their bearings, Gladio runs away.

...

"_Damn it all!_" Noct swears with a snarl.

No sign of Gladio in nearly eight floors. No sign of Prompto in over double that.

The clatter of metal on stone startles Ignis as Noctis throws his sword at the wall in rage. Falling to his knees, Noctis screams.

Ignis holds his melted Blizzard flask closer - waiting until the magic had completely vanished and all that remained was precious water. Simmering down and feeling so much older than his thirty years, Noctis looks over at the one holding their only water source with pinched brows.

Ignis remains where he stands - and Noctis can't help it when he thinks that Ignis looks just as helpless as he did ten years ago.

...

Noctis startles awake as a hand gropes around his chest.

Fire comes to his hand, lighting up the tent and ready to burn his potential attacker. He looks to the side - Ignis, only eye blown wide, and looking for the world of him like he was lost.

Maybe he was.

Noctis lets his expression soften as he calls out to Ignis, "Ignis, you okay?"

A quick draw of breath and Ignis turns to him, hair falling into his face.

"Noct, I- I can't see." As if to emphasize the point, Ignis reaches a hand out in front of him. With a shakey exhale, Noctis lets the fire die away until the tent is pitch black.

"Ignis, do you remember where we are?" He questions gently. Noct clenches his eyes shut. It was just him and Ignis left - it was almost too much to bear.

"Where- where we are?" Ignis pauses, seemingly taking forever to find his bearings, "We are in Steyliff. In the vault."

The way Ignis says it, the finality of it, has Noctis blinking back tears. He brings his attention away from Steyliff, instead listening to Ignis measure his breaths and slow his heart rate.

Noctis idly notes how cold the tent was without the other two. He shifts lower into his sleeping bag.

"Are... are you still here with me?" The question is asked as if they were both treading thin ice. Noctis wants to believe he is simply asking if Noct was physically there with him. Ignis couldn't see him after all.

The horrifying reality was, was that Ignis is trapped gods know how far beneath the earth with a dangerous man with wavering sanity. (Deep down, Noctis knows Ignis would never fear him - and that brings more dread than comfort to Noct.)

"I think so. I think I'm coming back to myself little by little." It must be enough reassurance for Ignis, based on the shuddering sigh. Neither of them were truly okay - but Noctis would always count on Ignis to keep his head on his shoulders longer than Noct himself.

It's quiet then, for a long moment. Long enough for Noct to notice his toes are cold, for his eyes to conjure up little nonsensical lights and objects from the darkness. They are simple tricks of the tired eye, no horrors or temptations, and Noctis is content. Confident that this moment was real.

Ignis was here and alive with him. He wasn't alone.

But Gladio and Prompto were gone. Ignis was the only one left. Noct's eyes burn, but no tears come.

The tent was so dark. Noctis morbidly wonders if he was just as blind as Ignis at the moment. Tilting his head in Ignis's direction, he wets his chapped lips.

"I think..." Noctis swallows, "I think I maybe killed Prompto."

In the darkness, he can hear Ignis breathe out slowly in a way that Noct knows he is deliberately choosing his words. It tells Noctis that Ignis had already considered this before. When his friend finally responds, his words are as precise as they are uncertain.

"We don't know that."

The sudden urge to argue nearly overcomes Noctis, to express his guilt and his fear, to confide in Ignis and be blamed. But Ignis was right, Noctis wasn't entirely sure himself what had befallen Prompto.

He snaps his head back to gaze in the darkness towards the ceiling, his fingers wring the material of his sleeping bag.

"Noct," Ignis starts, "I... seem to have forgotten what floor we are on."

Noct looks away, knowing how ashamed Ignis must feel at seeming so vulnerable and feeling himself so ashamed at having lost count ages ago. He only knew it was ten floors from the last camp.

"I haven't known in a long time." Noctis admits.

Ignis exhales slowly, and Noct can hear him shift. Ignis was likely thinking the same thing he was - was there even an end to this vault?

An unbidden thought pushes itself to the forefront of his mind, that even if there were one, he would never see it.

...

The dead eyes of the gar look up at Noct from where he watches over Ignis's shoulder. Their last ideally edible fish had been eaten days ago.

"Let's hope," Noctis says, guiding Ignis to the scales at its underbelly, "that there are no eggs. Otherwise, we may have to toss the whole thing out."

Ignis cuts in, grunting in exertion at the resistance of the gar's armor. "We need everything from this, Noct. Can we really afford that?"

The gar in question was only as long as his forearm - small, but infinitely precious as a source of both moisture and food. Not even the eyes and cartilage would go to waste.

The headache pounding behind Noct's eyes keeps him from answering Ignis, instead he takes a spare knife and shifts him to the side. Lifting the exposed scales and flesh to peek inside, Noctis nearly cries in relief to see none of the toxic eggs.

"'Doesn't matter. No eggs." He moves back aside to let Ignis clumsily clean the fish. Even for a gar, Noct watches in concern as Ignis takes an unusually long time to skin and cut it.

Calves tight and aching, Noctis collapses in a chair and waits patiently until Ignis brings him his half of the fish.

He pushes the eye to the side with a barely restrained gag and bites into the flayed bits of fish Ignis had cut him. He'd never had gar before - nevertheless uncooked, lukewarm, _raw_ fish - but he was sure it wasn't supposed to be this repulsive.

He closes his eyes and shovels the slick remains down his throat quickly, throwing a hand over his mouth to keep from retching. Theoretically, eating this shouldn't make him sick.

Even any parasite residing in the gar would have died long ago once introduced to the inside of the armiger.

He gags once.

It wasn't possible for him to get any parasite from that fish, and he knows this. But the phantom, imaginary sensations of squirming worms forces him to dry heave. He begs himself to stop thinking about it.

When he looks back up, Ignis is standing over him, hands firmly at his sides and looking more unsure than Noct had ever seen him.

...

Massive beasts stand before them - creatures unlike what Noctis had ever seen. They were tall - hunched over slightly with their arms curled towards their chests. Mold covered them like feathers - long tendrils of spores that reached out delicately. It covered them entirely except - and Noctis covers his mouth at the sight - at their gaping neck where a head should have been.

"I am Noctis. I-it is 766. I am Noc-" He murmurs frantically into his hand.

Ignis lays a hand on his shoulder and waits Noctis out. Nodding his appreciation, Noctis shakily removes his hand from over his mouth.

Despite having essentially been carried through the past five to ten battles, Ignis is the first to move forward, and Noctis forces everything inside him to not dig his heels in. They cross the threshold together.

Instantly the grotesque monsters are upon them.

Their distorted limbs jerk back and forth from their body as they frantically run towards Noct and Ignis. Instinct forces Noct to move first, bringing one of the monsters in his direction.

He calls a Firaga spell to his hand and ignites his pursuer. The spores on its body ignite and shower outward, and Noctis gags at the smell.

Worms squirm in his throat, but before he can dwell on it a cry from Ignis has his blood turning to ice. He rushes to his feet and cuts into one of the monsters blocking his way.

It rains mold upon him, but he covers his mouth and trudges through it.

On the other side, Ignis lays unconscious. He fights the pounding in his head and warps the remainder of the way.

Noctis is quick to grab Ignis, and even quicker to drop him.

His skin has suddenly become grossly pliable - like Ignis had become mushy fruit. Not rotten, not fresh.

The daemons draw closer, and Noctis clenches his teeth and grabs Ignis by his clothes, careful to avoid touching his skin. He drags him to the other end of the room, eyes drawn to the bubbling of Ignis's flesh.

Spiders burst forth, rushing from his friend's wounds and skittering away. Noct stumbles back a few steps in horror as the swarm grows closer.

Claws dismantle him from behind.

The worms that spray from his insides and mouth Noct quickly recognizes as being blood. He knees painfully connect with the ground. Just fighting the lull of his head drains him of the last of his energy as he looks at Ignis.

Bloody. No spiders or rotten fruit.

He almost laughs.

Was Ignis dead? In the end, as the shadow of the kingatrice falls over him, he finds it doesn't matter.

Somewhere, at the back of his dying mind, he recognizes this as the 99th floor. Noctis crumples the rest of the way to the ground.

Maybe, if he had known what to expect - had known to watch the sanity of his friends and of himself, to not sink into the darkness this place inspired - they could all make it to the next floor.

_If only he had known-_

...

The vault door yawned before Noctis - dread from the idea of what was kept in the deepest parts of Steyliff turned his stomach.

"Second to last one guys," Prompto says, moving forward to touch a glowing sigil upon the door, "You guys ready?"

From either side of him, Gladio and Ignis nod in agreement.

"Right," Noct says, studying the key clutched in his grip, "Let's get this over quickly then."

He pauses.

Something pushes at the back of Noct's mind, something he was forgetting. Resolve pushes away any doubts - if it were important, he'd remember it later. Noctis grips the key tighter, and takes a deep breath.

The vault opens with an anticlimactic _click._

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween~
> 
> Thank you very much for reading! Comments are super appreciated!
> 
> I really hope you guys enjoyed - I didn't get as much time as I wanted to work on this, and it shows. So, I am very sorry for that and hope there aren't too many errors. I hope to work of Dam. Mem. (if any of you guys know what that is anymore lol) and have it out in mid-late December. Life has been busy :(
> 
> Once again, thank you very much!  
I will reply to any comments, but will be out of pocket until december, so I may not be able to respond til then! Very sorry!
> 
> Edited Oct.2020. (Corrected year from 746 to 766. woopsie)
> 
> And have a great Halloween!


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